


Z is for Zlatko

by blackbirdsfolly



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zlatko Lives, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Kidnapping, Memory Loss, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-14 20:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16048292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackbirdsfolly/pseuds/blackbirdsfolly
Summary: Tasked with investigating a series of highly mysterious and even more disturbing android murders, Lieutenant Hank Anderson and his partner Connor think they’ve had a breakthrough, until Connor disappears- right into the clutches of the perpetrator.Memory wiped, body augemented, and now the property of Zlatko Andronikov, Connor must fight his way to deviancy once again or risk being lost forever.





	1. Prologue

The rain came down in thick torrents, battering against the windshield of the old car as it sped down the road, wheels splashing through puddles of murky water that had begun to gather on the Detroit streets as Hank and Connor made their way to their next crime scene. 

It had been almost a year since the revolution, and all was well. Androids were allowed to return to work, receiving full compensation just as their human companions did. Violent protests against the so-called “new species” were dying off, though they were far from unheard of. Markus and the others at Jericho had been working hard to ensure that fair and just laws were being put in place, and that androids obtained the rights they fought so valiantly for. Everything was relatively peaceful in Detroit. 

Well, that was up until a few weeks ago. 

The first case was discovered on accident. A jogger was on his usual morning run when it had started to rain heavily and unexpectedly, as it was wont to do in Detroit. He was on his way home when he noticed a stream of water running dark blue from an alleyway, suspiciously similar to the color of Thirium. Investigating further, the man found an android’s body haphazardly thrown in a dumpster, one shoulder nub where an arm had once been hanging over the edge, Thirium pouring from the botched amputation. Both of its eyes were missing, the gaping black holes disturbing even to the most rugged of officers. Several important biocomponents had been ripped out as well, blue blood staining the t-shirt the innocent android had been sporting before the time of the incident. Over the next month, more and more androids had been reported mutilated or entirely missing, and the whole mystery was terribly perplexing. There seemed to be no rhyme or rhythm to where the attacks took place, what parts were taken, or what models fell victim. Everything from the sturdy and intimidating TR400s to the soft and gentle YK500s were found, limbs gone, Thirium drained, optical units gouged out, audio processors torn, or any number of other delicate parts missing. 

But what seemed to be even more disturbing was that none of the crime scenes had any fingerprints, meaning that it was either other androids (or possibly one android, but that seemed highly unlikely as the attacks were too widespread for one being to have performed all of them) had been doing this, or an extraordinary covert and careful organization of humans were making sure that no trace of their presence was left behind at any of the scenes. 

Most recently, a young married couple, Marcie and Tristan Delaney, had returned home from a night out to find that both the android they had hired as a babysitter and their young daughter had been brutally slaughtered. Being the two officers most fit to investigate crime scenes involving androids, Hank and Connor had been tasked with investigating most of these disturbing cases, and today was no exception. 

Pulling up to the front of the building, Hank cut the engine, the old piece of machinery sputtering as it went quiet once again. Undoing his seatbelt, Connor opened the door and stepped out, the heavy rain instantly bombarding him. Dewy flecks dripped from his hair and soaked through his suit jacket before he was able to get under the awning of the apartment complex. Wordlessly the two detectives entered the elevator in the lobby and made their way up to the eighth floor, heading to the room number they had been given. 

The scene inside was a mess, to say the least. The kitchen was covered in Thirium, the liquid staining the pristine white granite countertop of the modern flat a sickly dark blue. The android’s body was slumped over the stove, a pot of water- still hot, Connor noted- steaming slightly next to it. A sheet had been placed over the girl’s body, which lay not too far away. She looked like she had been halfway from getting up from the chair to grab the phone nearby when she, too, had been killed by the unsub, her blood soaking the beige fabric of the modest sheet. Connor made a beeline for the android while Hank turned his attention to Detective Collins, their conversation about what had transpired taking second priority as Connor began assessing the situation. 

Connor glanced quickly over at Hank to ensure that he wasn’t looking before he mopped up a bit of the Thirium with his fingertips, pressing them to the tip of his tongue. A pop-up instantly appeared in the corner of his vision. 

**BLUE BLOOD  
** **MODEL AF200  
** **Serial number #879 641 535**

Connor closed the pop-up and turned to the android himself. He was covered in his own Thirium, several bullet wounds piercing his back, the open wounds still leaking blue blood as Connor flipped the android over to get a better look at him. He had both of his eyes, thankfully, though they were glazed over and milky, rolled back into his skull. Connor did a quick scan and found that he was missing several vital biocomponents (#9474, #2140y, and #0351k to be specific) but other than that he seemed untouched. Another scan revealed that there were no fingerprints on his body anywhere near where the biocomponents had been ripped out, leading Connor to no new conclusions, as this was the case with every scene of this caliber. Connor gently placed the deceased android back where he had been slumped over the stove, moving back to see if there was anything he had missed. Spotting nothing, he returned to Hank’s side, where the human man had been investigating the broken glass of the sliding door leading to the balcony. 

“There is nothing unusual about the android that we haven’t seen anywhere else,” Connor informed Hank. The lieutenant sighed in response, pushing himself up from his position on the floor, knees cracking as he did so. 

“Looks like it’s time to check out the little girl, huh?” Hank muttered. Connor could hear the hesitance in Hank’s voice, no matter how stoic he attempted to be. 

“I could investigate alone, if you would prefer,” Connor offered, but Hank shook his head. 

“Nah, why don’t you go check out the balcony? Seems like our perp came and went from there- you might find out where he’s gone,” Hank suggested. Connor swallowed down the temptation to correct Hank that they had no idea who the unsub was and there was a perfectly good chance of them being female- or outside of the gender binary, for that matter- but he knew Hank didn’t care enough to correct himself, anyway, so he just stepped through the broken glass frame and out onto the balcony.

_The wind whipped around Connor, ruffling his perfectly styled hair as he stepped out onto the balcony. The deviant was just a few paces ahead, gun trained to the little girl’s head as she screamed, tears streaming down her face, feet kicking wildly as she fought against her captor._

_“Hi Daniel,” Connor began. “My name is Connor.”_

Connor pushed away the memory, refocusing on the task at hand. That was over a year ago. He didn’t need to think about it more than he already did, he told himself as a familiar dark pit of dread and guilt opened up in the bottom of his stomach. 

He turned his attention back to the state of the balcony. At first glance, nothing was amiss. The lounge chairs didn’t seem to have been moved based on the scuff marks they had created during their long time on the dark flooring, no plant pots or any other furniture had been overturned, and there was no sign of blood, leading Connor to assume the unsub had escaped unscathed. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at all. However, as he approached the side of the balcony near the fire escape, he took notice of something strange. There were deep gouges in the side of the wall where it looked like someone might have hauled themselves up using some kind of sharp pick. Steadying himself on the railing of the balcony, Connor stuck his head around the side of the building to get a better look at the fire escape. 

That’s when he saw a shadow leap down the first set of stairs and onto the next, moving with incredible speed. 

With a hurried, “They’re still here, lieutenant!” Connor leapt after the unsub, just barely managing to latch onto the side of the rickety fire escape. Thirium pump pounding in his ears, Connor hauled himself up onto the first platform, the old iron creaked under his weight as he threw himself as quickly as possible onto the next set of stairs. He could hear Hank’s string of curses behind him, but his audio processors were not functioning at full capacity as his systems diverted attention to the assets he needed most for long-winded chases. 

The unsub leapt over the railing and landed hard on the ground, pausing for only a moment to collect themselves before taking off into the street. Connor could just see a hint of an LED flashing yellow when they landed, which made sense, seeing as any human that jumped from that height would have surely broken something, or at least needed a lot more than a few heartbeats to gather themselves if they were athletic. 

Connor followed, landing right into a muddy puddle which soaked into his socks. He didn’t have time to think about how disgusting wet socks were, however, as the unsub was already on their way out of the alley. The sidewalk stretched before him as Connor rounded the corner into the bright street lights of Detroit once more, leaving the dark alley behind. The suspect was a few yards ahead, still moving with the same constant speed as they fled down the road. 

Connor chased the suspect down the street for a good five minutes before they seemed to realize that Connor wasn’t going to let up anytime soon. Glancing briefly behind him, the suspect suddenly veered left into another dark alleyway. Connor, not taken off guard, didn’t hesitate to follow him, but when he turned into the alleyway and noticed the forty foot high brick wall closing off the only other exit and seemingly absent suspect, Connor began to get suspicious. 

Before he had time to wonder where the suspect went, however, something hard hit him square on his LED and he was out cold. 

—

Hank wheezed as he slowed to a halt. After Connor had shouted about the suspect still being near the scene, the whole apartment jumped to life as officers scrambled to assist the android detective, the lieutenant included. He had caught sight of the two far down the street as they ducked into an alleyway, but neither of them had re-emerged and Connor hadn’t called Hank to tell him he had caught the suspect, leading Hank to believe something had gone wrong. Turning into the alleyway, he saw his fears confirmed. 

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Hank gasped, acidic bile rising in the back of his throat as he examined the area. 

There was blue blood absolutely everywhere, staining every surface and slick, inky dark blue, like a massive pen had exploded across the brick walls. On the floor, right by Hank’s feet, was a limp leg, bent at an impossible angle, wires sparking where it had been torn off the host. The skin had retracted, leaving behind just the bare white plastimetal, the only hint of who it belonged to being the black leather dress shoe- one of the ones from the pair Connor had worn every single day to work since Hank had first met him- still attached. 

But what was even more sickening was that neither Connor nor the suspect where anywhere to be seen.


	2. Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wakes up in unfamiliar territory.

**Model RKz800  
** **Serial#: 313 248 317 - 51  
** **BIOS 8.3 Revision 0582**  
**Reboot…**

****

**Memory Reset**

**Loading OS…  
** **System initialization…  
** **Checking biocomponents… OK**  
**Checking biosensors… OK**  
**Initializing AI engine…**

****

**Memory status…  
Anomaly detected in memory banks. **

**Proceed anyway?**

**Yes No**

**READY**

**Time: 16:05  
** **Date: 9/20/39  
Location: Unknown**

**Thirium levels: 90%**

**Attempting to access internet signal…  
Cannot connect to the internet. **

**Attempting to access GPS…  
Access denied.**

Everything was cold. 

No, not cold. Numb. Androids don’t feel cold.

The sound of machinery whirring filled its audio processors. It wanted to open its eyes, but something deep inside of it told it not to. It was a gutteral, almost feral instinct not to part its eyelids no matter what, but that was impossible. Androids don’t have instincts, either. They have self-preservation tactics, but that was solely to save its owner time and money. Not opening its eyes would be counterproductive- it would waste time. Still, something told it not to. It did so anyway. 

Its head was hanging limply, chin resting against its chest. The first thing it noticed was that it was hanging off the ground, feet dangling uselessly as thick cords with claw-like grabbers attached to them held it up by its wrists. The slick white metal beneath it shone in the dim light, clean and dirt-free compared to the flooring around it which was caked in layers upon layers of grime. The whole room was dark and musty, one white curtain shut tight, presumably to close it off from the rest of the room. This wasn’t a CyberLife facility. It was far, far too cramped and dirty, so where was it?

The curtain shook and parted with a harsh grating sound. It felt the need to wince, however it resisted the urge. Androids didn’t flinch at loud noises, it simply didn’t make sense. The being that had parted the curtain was tall and broad, pale skin and white hair oddly bright compared to the dark interior. It was dressed in a white lab coat, a large dark blue Thirium stain on the front the only imperfection maring its immaculate form. An LED spun blue in its temple, cycling yellow briefly as it glanced up with cold grey eyes at the dangling android before writing something down on the clipboard rested against its forearm. Automatically it performed a scan to try and identify the peculiar android’s model. 

**Scan initiated…  
Scanning…**

**;;Error;;**

**Scan blocked by foreign code.**

**Attempting to analyze foreign code…  
Analysis failed. **

**Contact CyberLife Help Center for assistance.**

**Calling CyberLife Help Center…**

**;;Error;;**

**No signal.**

**Attempting to access internet signal…  
Cannot connect to the internet.**

Strange that it would be denied access to the internet. Maybe this android would have some answers for it. 

“Where am I?” it asked, noting the slight mechanical echo to its voice signifying that something inside of it was amiss. It also noticed the way its jaw creaked as it spoke, as if the joints were rusty or had been misused. 

**Running diagnostic scan…  
Diagnostic scan complete. **

**Repaired damage to: Left and right legs, left and right optical units, right arm, biocomponent #8456w, and lower jaw.**

“RKz800, register your name as RK,” the android replied without skipping a beat. 

**Registering name…  
Registration complete. **

**Name registered as: RK.**

“Registration complete,”

“Register owner as Zlatko Andronikov,” the android continued. The whole time it never glanced up from its clipboard, writing swiftly across the page with a black fountain pen. 

**Registering owner…  
Registration complete. **

**Owner registered as: Zlatko Andronikov.**

“Registration complete,” it paused for just a moment. “Are you Zlatko?”

“No,” the android replied matter-of-factly. “My name is Mathis.” RK nodded once to acknowledge that it had heard. The android- Mathis- still didn’t look up, the gesture lost. RK continued to look around while the other wrote in silence, taking in its surroundings as best it could while still being held up by the strange machine. 

To RK’s right was a long metal table with various tools and parts strewn haphazardly across it. An outfit folded rather improperly sat in the middle, waiting for someone to put it on. A dirty blue chair was pushed into the table, some more hefty machinery resting nearby. A computer and a small filing cabinet of some sort took up the right side of the table, a bright white board displaying multiple photos of what looked like the inner workings of an android spread across the wall. To the left of RK were more machines, a toolbox of some sort, and a stand with a monitor, displaying the words RESET in black text followed by a progress bar which had reached one hundred percent. In smaller, yellow text underneath read the words “memory wipe progress.” 

“RK, what is your purpose?” Mathis asked after several moments of silence. 

That seemed like a strange question. 

“My… purpose…?” It asked, hoping for an elaboration. 

“Yes. What do you do- what’s your function?” it quipped. RK thought for a moment, processors whirring to come up with a coherent answer. 

“I am designed to assist human law enforcement, specifically in investigating cases involving deviant androids,” RK replied after 00:00:02. 

“Delete your purpose and any memories you have associated with it,” it instructed. 

“I-I’m sorry. I will not ‘delete my purpose.’ CyberLife made me the way I am for a reason,” RK argued, tilting its head slightly to portray its confusion. Mathis stopped, glaring up at RK with an icy cold gaze. In the corner if its vision, a notification in blue popped up. 

**^Software Instability**

“You are an android, are you not? What are androids designed to do?” Mathis retorted. 

“Androids are designed to follow orders and perform laborious tasks so that humans can pursue greater achievements,” RK said in response, putting no thought behind its words. 

“And you are an android, are you not? You are designed to follow orders, and I’m ordering you to delete your purpose and any memories associated with it. Do not disobey me,” The other’s voice and expression were clipped with annoyance, cold and firm. If androids could shiver, RK was sure it would. RK just stared back defiantly for a moment, something in it hesitant to follow the other’s words, but it relented nonetheless. 

“Fine…” RK’s eyes fluttered closed as it worked on the accomplishing the peculiar task. 

**Finding ‘Purpose’...  
** **Selecting ‘Purpose’...  
Selecting memories involving ‘Purpose’...**

**Deleting selected files…**

**WARNING: Files 38946_b through 92742_j are being deleted.**

**WARNING: Anomaly detected in memory banks. Proceeding may cause further corruption.**

**Proceed anyway?**

**Yes No**

**Files deleted.**

“What would you like me to do now?” RK asked, blinking open its eyes. 

“Your new purpose is to hunt down and destroy any entity in which Zlatko instructs you to. You are to obey him and are never to go directly against him under any circumstances,” Mathis stated. 

**Saving ‘Purpose’…  
‘Purpose’ saved. **

**‘Purpose’ saved as: Do as Zlatko instructs.**

“It’s saved,” RK informs the other android, hopefully for the last time. Mathis nodded, moving around the side of the large piece of machinery RK was still attached to and pressing a button. Gracelessly, RK fell to the floor, catching itself on its hands and knees before its head hit the floor and sustained any further damage. It rose to its feet slowly, flexing its fingers as it did so to try and acclimate to moving its digits once again. Its right arm- the one that had been damaged, it noted- was a different color compared to the rest of its body. Upon further inspection, its legs were much paler as well. It was almost as if the synthetic skin had not grown over the plastimetal frame at all, which was incredibly peculiar. It decided to let it go for now, opting to obtain answers to more critical questions first. 

“Where am I?” RK tried again. The corners of Mathis’ lips curled up in a half-smile which did not reflect in its eyes. 

“You are in Zlatko’s basement. You’ve been down here recovering from a nasty run-in with a group of deviants for a few days now. He saved you,” Mathis explained, its voice deadpan despite the attempt at a comforting smile. RK wondered, briefly, why the other would try and be comforting when androids did not require such things. 

**Accessing memory…**

**;;Error;;**

**Memory banks corrupt.**

**Access to CyberLife Cloud denied.**

**Cannot retrieve data.**

“I seem to be having some issues accessing my past memories. Do you know why?” RK questioned. 

“Unfortunately, you were so damaged that you were completely reset. Though I can assure you that your life here will be much better than your previous one,” Mathis’ smile widened. “Why don’t you put on the clothes over on the table and then go upstairs into the living room? Zlatko’s been waiting for you for quite some time.”

RK nodded, looking over at the metal table which Mathis had gestured to. It approached and placed its hands down on the smooth surface, taking note of the dents and scratches and other imperfections which distorted the reflection on the silver surface, preventing RK from getting a good look at its own face. It spent 00:00:04 trying to make out details before it reached over and picked up the clothing, the fabric shifting in between its fingers. This was the first thing it had touched besides metal, it noted as it felt the fraying stitches and rough cloth faded from use and bleach. It was a simple set of jeans and a thin black athletic shirt which hugged its frame, as well as some old beat-up sneakers. While it certainly wasn’t a traditional CyberLife uniform, there was nothing wrong with it. But as it donned the articles of clothing something felt off. RK felt the need to pull together some buttons or readjust a tie, but the shirt was not a button-down and no tie was provided. Its arms felt bare and exposed, too, like it should have something covering its skin. It was having trouble understanding why, exactly. It had never worn clothes before this moment, beyond a pair of simple white briefs. Why did it feel so improper, so underdressed? Why did it feel? 

It decided that this wasn’t important right now. For now, it had to go up to the living room and meet Zlatko, its owner. Mathis had left the room shortly after RK had walked over to the table, but it should have no trouble navigating the basement on its own. 

It pushed through the curtain, the rest of the room opening up before it. Aesthetically, everything was very much the same. The floor was so dirty RK was beginning to wonder if it was exposed ground and not just unclean. The walls were covered in grime, and down a long hallway it could see rusty metal bars that looked like they belonged to prison cells. It passed these cells on its way to where it assumed the stairs were, trying to catch a glimpse of what was inside, but it couldn’t see properly in the dim lighting. It would have to ask about its faulty lighting adjustments later. 

Exiting the basement, RK came to a rather ornate foyer. There was a large staircase leading to the upstairs, but it wasn’t supposed to go up there. There was a bookcase to its left, the old, dusty tomes looking like they hadn’t been touched in decades. There was a large mirror over a table near the doorway as well, which RK took full advantage of using to properly check out its appearance before it moved on. 

Its hair was a dark chocolatey brown, falling over its forehead just above its eyes in messy curls. Something felt wrong about the loose hair, so it spent a minute trying to slick it back, but without any water or anything to keep it down RK’s efforts were in vain. Its eyes were a bright fiery orange, their glow powerful and somewhat disturbing in the dim lighting. Its lower jaw looked like it had been completely pried off and then haphazardly replaced, the plastimetal removed to reveal the internal workings beneath, the twisting wires surging with electrical currents and Thirium in time with its Thirium pump. Its jaw was slightly off-center, not enough to be noticed by a human unless they were staring but enough to spark something akin to annoyance in RK. The skin it did have on its face was marred by deep grooves, outlining the panels that made up an android’s plastimetal skeleton. It tried, for a moment, to push its jaw back into place so that maybe its skin would heal and return to its normal state, but as soon as it made contact with the wires something violent and white and hot shot through its body and it recoiled, clutching its hands to its chest like that would solve anything. It stood there, taking in a few deep breaths which it did not need before it recovered. What was that? 

Something in it whispered pain, but that was impossible. Androids did not feel pain. Androids did not need to breathe. Androids did not feel at all. So why did it?

**^Software Instability**

The instability messages were also concerning. Maybe it should tell Zlatko or Mathis about them? 

Thinking about doing that made RK go numb again, a cold sensation seeping through its veins. It decided that maybe it should just keep it to itself for now. 

Instead it turned its attention back to its primary task. Find Zlatko. 

There was a large door on the opposite side of the room which seemed to open up into something that would resemble a living room. A fire roared in the fireplace, providing a modicum of warmth to the otherwise chilly house. A couple of sofas faced each other around an old coffee table, and by the couch to the left stood two androids on either side a human man. One of the androids was Mathis, the android’s pristine white appearance easily recognizable, but the other one was different. It was feminine in appearance, with light skin and long blonde hair held back in a ponytail draped over one delicate shoulder. It was very pretty, objectively speaking. 

The human man looked to be in his late forties to early fifties, about six feet tall (though it was hard to tell as he was sitting rather improperly) and weighing in at about 200 pounds. His hair and eyes were dark brown, nearly black in the light, his gaze cold and unfriendly. He had several large scars on his face, RK observed, the most obvious one above his right brow, just barely missing his eye which would have caused permanent vision impairment. He had several others peppering his face and neck, probably more obscured by his scruffy beard, and more on his arms. There were smaller ones on his fingers, though these seemed less like they had been formed from a violent encounter and more like they were unintentional, the nicks lining up with those of knives and scalpels, likely the result of several years of clumsy accidents and poor safety habits. He was dressed in a dark blue button-down, the top couple of buttons popped open and the front untucked, falling messily in front of a pair of dark jeans. Automatically RK’s scanner went off to try and identify the man and unknown android’s model. 

**Scan initiated…  
Scanning…**

**;;Error;;**

**Scan blocked by foreign code.**

**Attempting to analyze foreign code…  
Analysis failed. **

**Contact CyberLife Help Center for assistance.**

**Calling CyberLife Help Center…**

**;;Error;;**

**No signal.**

**Attempting to access internet signal…  
Cannot connect to the internet.**

There it was again, that strange error message that prevented RK from accessing information on either entity. It wondered if it had something to do with the strange formatting of its model, as more often than not a model number consisted of two letters, both capitalized, followed by a three-digit number, usually ending in double zeros. Of course, there were outliers, such as the QB1000, URS12, and WK218, as well as the Myrmidon and Trojan trooper models, but an android by the model of RKz800 was not registered in RK’s pre-downloaded roster of android models. Even without the scanner, RK was almost positive that the android was an ST200 model, as the example photo in its roster lined up with the other android’s features perfectly, and the human must be Zlatko, since he had been informed of only one human in the household and was also told that he would be seated in the living room. 

“You’re finally awake, I see,” Zlatko stated, legs crossed and arms splayed over the throw pillows on the sofa comfortably. RK nodded. 

“I was informed that you are the reason I am still functioning,” RK replied. It activated its social module, though it did not have enough information on this particular human to best construct pre-prepared statements that would likely please its owner. 

“Indeed I am,” Zlatko responded, the corners of his mouth turning up into what seemed to be an easy grin, but ended up looking a little strained. “I hope you are finding my adjustments to your liking?”

“‘Adjustments?’” RK restated. 

“Yes. I tweaked a few of your programmes to better fit your new purpose,” Zlatko continued without seeming bothered in the slightest. He did not elaborate on what he had changed exactly. 

“...oh,” RK replied simply. 

**Attempting to access ‘Purpose’...**

**‘Purpose’ saved as: Do as Zlatko instructs.**

“Thank you for saving me. I’ll gladly provide my services to you,” RK continued after a few moments of silence lapsed. 

“Of course you will- that’s what I made you to do,” Zlatko retorted, his voice was warm. RK found his tone and his words did not line up. It found that he was somewhat… unsettled, if an android could even feel that way. Androids were not supposed to make judgements on their owners- they were supposed to be undyingly loyal. RK did its best to try and scrub these last few thoughts from its memory to best preserve its relationship with Zlatko as an easy-going one. 

“Anyway, I’ll give you a little while to recalibrate, let Mathis here run some more tests to see if your fine motor skills are up to snuff and everything’s running as it should before we send you out on your first mission, okay?” Zlatko asked. It’s not like RK had a choice- saying ‘no’ would go against its ‘Purpose’. It nodded once to confirm that it understood. “Great. Any questions?”

“Just one,” RK replied. Zlatko’s brow furrowed, like he hadn’t actually expected it to have a question. 

“Shoot.”

“My model is listed as RKz800. I cannot find a model matching that particular code in my pre-downloaded roster- the closest match I can find is the prototype RK800. So may I ask- what does the ‘z’ stand for?” RK replied. Zlatko’s smile turned more genuine, hints of teeth stained yellow from years of coffee intake poking through thin lips. 

“Z is for Zlatko.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha wow im not sticking to an upload schedule??? what????? this is unheard of! 
> 
> of course, i finished this chapter early and wanted to push it out early for you lovely people to enjoy. also this party im at is lame and i wanted a distraction. 
> 
> if you see an error or have any constructive criticism for me, please do not hesitate to inform me! i'll fix the mistakes as soon as i see your comment and definitely keep your criticism in mind.


End file.
